Should I write a book about practice pads?

A friend suggested I research and write a comprehensive book about the history of drum practice pads.

It's an intriguing idea, especially now that I'm retired and have time.

It's also a daunting idea, because of the amount and kind of research required for such a book to be "comprehensive."

The last time I researched and wrote anything as thoroughly was a college term paper about Percussion Instruments in the Ottoman Empire. The course was a graduate-level course in Ottoman history that the instructor invited me to take for undergraduate credit (to be applied towards my certificate in Middle East Studies). The grad students had to submit a 50-page paper and oral presentation at the end of the term; as an undergrad, my paper could be 25 pages. I was fascinated and signed up for the class. The paper could be on any topic related to the Ottoman Empire. Eventually, I decided to write about Ottoman period percussion instruments and their influences on Western music.

I had contacted the Percussive Arts Society for help with my research, and while the respondent couldn't offer anything concrete, he invited me to send him a copy of the paper when it was finished. I told him I'd send him a copy if I got an "A" on it.
I struggled with the finer points of research and documentation, and wrote a 25-page typed paper, for which I gave an oral presentation in class. My oral presentation included demonstrations of modern percussion instruments that took their designs and uses from their Ottoman precursors.
I got an "A-" and sent the guy at PAS a copy.

A month later, the same fellow contacted me and asked if I'd give permission for the paper to be included in an upcoming issue of the PAS journal Percussive Notes. I was surprised, but said yes.
Two months later, I received two copies of the printed journal in the mail. I gave one to my instructor as a thank-you.

My instructor informed me that my paper had been published in a peer review journal. I had no idea what that meant. His mildly jealous graduate assistant explained it to me: "You got a scholarly paper published in an academic journal. Other academics -- people with graduate degrees, university professors and the like -- who subscribe to that journal can read what you wrote and offer comments and reviews of it. Undergrads don't generally get their papers accepted by peer review journals!"
I hadn't known such a thing existed. I was amazed and even a little proud of myself.
My professor was so tickled that he tacked a photocopy of the published article to the bulletin board outside his office.

That was the first and last time I ever worked so hard on a research paper, with citations and footnotes and everything.
I don't think of myself as an academic.

But the idea of writing a whole book on a topic, and especially researching it all, somewhat terrifies me. Which is a good sign that it's worth considering.

I don't yet know how to proceed. I don't yet know if it makes sense to try and create a printed, physical book; who would buy such a thing in the age of computers and e-readers?

But I am pondering the idea seriously. Feel free to reach out and tell me what you think.

Future Vintage: Matoon practice pad

Chris Mattoon is based in the mid west and tours with a couple of different bands. A student of Bernard Purdie, he became interested in making drums and percussion accessories while still a student, and went on to create his own company of custom made drums.

For awhile, Chris made beautiful practice pads from machined aluminum and gum rubber. Small (3" in diameter) and very portable, they were meant to be used on a stand or a knee platform. For a short time, he made them out of both plain aluminum and also with custom drum wrap finishes. They were highly desirable by drummers and collectors, and in production for only a few years.

I recently acquired this one from Reverb, complete with a knee platform.

It took some time for me to warm up to it, but now I enjoy its portability and response. The small size forces me to work on accuracy, and I like that too.

These pads sold new in the mid 2010's for anywhere from $100 to 150. Today, they are rare and might sell for as much as $200 depending on finish and condition. I got mine for $75 because the gum rubber was starting to show a little yellowing and age, but it still plays nicely. I store it with another mini-pad on top of it to minimize the exposure to sunlight, which is a good idea for all gum rubber pads.

Chris no longer makes these pads, preferring to focus on teaching, touring and making custom drums by request.

DIY Project: homemade Moeller pad

Readers here will remember my first attempt at making a tilted wood practice pad, during the pandemic. It was a rough job, and the tilt was insane, but I learned a lot from the process. A friend named it the Hero Tilt pad.

Not long after finishing that project, I came across this photo of a pad made and used by Sanford “Gus” Moeller.

It was one of the most beautiful pads I’d ever seen, and I wanted to own it.

I also knew that wasn’t likely to happen. This one was either in the hands of Moeller’s descendants, or a collector, or maybe even a museum.

So if I wanted one, I’d have to make my own. The trouble was that I’m not an experienced woodworker. I own no power tools and I wasn’t prepared to lay out a ton of money on the project. So I made a deal with myself and decided that I’d take my time, do my best, and be willing to live with the results.

Part One: I got the wood slabs from a scrap pile at a construction site near my home. 

The cylindrical pieces came from chair crossbeams dumped by a restaurant when they replaced their broken chairs. Unable to get accurate measurements from a photo, I went “by the eye,” as they say. I drew lines for simple cuts with a hand saw, and after the pieces were cut I sanded them all by hand. I mostly wanted to sand down the sharp edges so they wouldn't snag on anything. Since I was working with scrap wood, hand tools and arthritic hands, I was prepared for my pad to be a bit more rough and ready than Moeller’s. 

Part Two: I roughed up the facing edges and used wood glue to attach the three main pieces together. I used a wood stool and bicycle toe straps as clamps to set everything overnight. When the glue dried, I went back and added a couple of wood screws for stability. Then, I added the small side struts with wood glue and let everything dry overnight.

I had thought of staining my pad like Moeller had, but my very rough scraps and glue spots would only be accentuated by stain or vernish. In the end I decided to just paint the wood. I opted for some Gloss Forest Green left over from when we painted our house three years ago. A couple of coats and it didn’t look half bad.

I wanted a name plate, but there wasn’t enough room to apply one where Moeller had placed his, so I mounted it on the side of the base. I made mine from scrap leather and used an art pen. I preserved it with a coat of clear nail polish and mounted it with tiny copper finishing nails.

Part Three: I applied a nonskid bottom using thin mousepad material. I’ve used this on other practice pads and it works well.

Part Four: Finally, I was ready to add the rubber playing surface on top. I marked off the size I wanted, dipped a sharp carpet knife in oil, and cut to desired size. After wiping the oil off, I scored the top of the wood and the bottom of the rubber, applied super glue gel, bound it up with bike toe straps and let dry outside.

Here’s the finished pad, and the original Moeller pad for comparison. It’s not perfect, but it’s solid and feels great to chop on. Considering my lack of woodworking tools and knowledge, I’m still pleased with how it turned out.